WHEN Jessie comes with her soft breast,
   And yields the golden keys,
Then is it as if God caress'd
   Twin babes upon His knees--
Twin babes that, each to other press'd,
Just feel the Father's arms, wherewith they both are bless'd.

But when I think if we must part,
   And all this personal dream be fled--
O then my heart! O then my useless heart!
   Would God that thou wert dead--
A clod insensible to joys and ills--
A stone remote in some bleak gully of the hills!